


My Window Is The East

by SilverLynxx



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cute, Domestic Fluff, Flirting, Fluff, Lettie Lutz (Kinda), M/M, Prompt Fic, Romeo and Juliet References, Tumblr Prompt, dialogue prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 16:16:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15844869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverLynxx/pseuds/SilverLynxx
Summary: “–PT!” Phillip nearly yells, though he can barely hear it over the thunderous beat of his own heart. “Will you stop coming in through the window, it scares the hell out of me every time!”





	My Window Is The East

**Author's Note:**

  * For [braille_upon_my_skin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/braille_upon_my_skin/gifts).



> So this is a long long _loooooong_ overdue dialogue prompt ( _“Will you stop coming in through the window, it scares the hell out of me every time!”_ ) for the darling Braille ~~we're talking months here~~ and I apologise profusely for the time it's taken to fill. I'd hoped to post it for your birthday, but I wasn't able to manage; hopefully the 4k fluff fest it has become will suitably make amends, and act as a gift befitting your patience  <3
> 
> A huge thank you to [Schizanthus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schizanthus) for beta'ing, and to Picnokinesis for their input!

Escaping from the crush of the subway and into the fresh air of the street is a welcome relief as Phillip adjusts the strap of his briefcase and cuts his way through the crowd, turning onto a wide yet quieter street as he makes his way home.

Squinting against the glare of the sun reflecting off the wet sidewalk and clusters of puddles, Phillip keeps a steady pace, already fantasising about the glass of wine, book, and easy company awaiting him in his apartment. It’s the only highlight to an otherwise long and trying day, and Phillip can’t wait to dump his bag, heavy with the weight of his most recent unsold manuscripts and sense of failure, at the door. 

Before long, he’s climbing the winding steps up to his landing and pushing his key into the lock, so blissfully close.

“Phillip!” a voice calls, echoing slightly off the old stone walls. Despite how agonisingly close he is to the mire of self-pity awaiting him on the other side of the door, Phillip can’t ignore the twist in his stomach at the pleasantly deep voice calling for his attention.

“PT,” Phillip replies with a weary but genuine smile as his tall, dark-haired neighbour strides towards him, an unmissable beacon in his bold red coat. With a bit more embellishment it wouldn’t look far off from a ringmaster’s jacket, and he found it strangely befitting the stunning, eccentric personality that was PT Barnum.

“Home later than usual, anyone I should be worried about?” Barnum queries with an impish timbre, managing to coax a slightly wider smile from Phillip.

“You’re in luck, the only rival you have vying for my attention is still my cat,” Phillip assures, warmed by the way Barnum’s eyes regard him with an open fondness.

“And how’s my standing?” Barnum presses.

“Lettie still has my heart, I’m afraid,” Phillip informs him with mock solemnity, and Barnum’s shoulders sag dramatically.

“Well, I suppose if I had to lose you to a woman...” Barnum laments, finally rousing a laugh from Phillip. He suspects that was Barnum’s intent all along, if his satisfied grin is anything to go by. Clasping Phillip’s shoulder, Barnum holds Phillip’s gaze as his distinctive and endearing lopsided smile softens. “You have a good evening, alright?”

Phillip ducks his head, flushing as the quiet earnest words settle warmly in the pit of his stomach. “Yeah, yeah you too,” he manages to get out, turning the key in the lock and finally stepping into his apartment. He returns Barnum’s wave as he continues down the hall, lingering until the man is completely out of sight.

Closing the door behind him, Phillip leans back against it, taking a moment to work the pleased smile from his lips. He chides himself for it being there in the first place; he was beyond the age where butterflies and flustered smiles were appropriate, regardless of the charmingly crooked grin and mischievous laughter-lined eyes that put them there.

A plaintive yowl from inside the apartment distracts Phillip from his fanciful imaginings, and he spots the blue ragdoll standing expectantly at the end of the corridor; her grey fox-brush tail sweeps idly in greeting. “Lettie,” he coos fondly, shrugging off his bag and coat to hang on the hook behind the door. Striding up the hall, Phillip scoops up the sizeable cat as he passes and presses his nose into her thick neck fur, the soothing cadence of her purr vibrating against his chest.

“What am I going to do about him, hm?” he ponders aloud, pressing a kiss between Lettie’s ears and placing her on the countertop. Phillip then busies himself with preparing her evening meal under her watchful eye, fending off both intrusive thoughts of Barnum and Lettie’s equally intrusive presence as she butts heads with his elbow, purring fiercely. “Alright, alright! I’m almost done, you devil.” He clicks his tongue in half-hearted admonishment as he sets the spoon aside and places the bowl on the island counter, the ragdoll nimbly leaping from one surface to the other in pursuit.

Pulling up a stool, Phillip props his chin on his palm and runs two knuckles down Lettie’s side as she eats. “You know, you’re not very forthcoming with advice,” he accuses with a wry smile, letting habit guide his hand in a repetitive petting motion as his mind drifts, coming inevitably back to familiar honey-whiskey eyes.

Phillip would be lying only to himself if he said he didn’t find his buoyant, beguiling neighbour attractive, because his friends had long stopped believing his futile claims to the contrary. And yet, even with countless similar exchanges between them, composed of laden smiles and repartee that toed the line between procacious and suggestive, Phillip couldn’t be sure it wasn’t simply the man’s propensity to charm that fuelled their flirtatious exchanges. At least, not sure enough to risk putting his dignity, and potentially worse, on the line for what could be a sound rejection.

Phillip’s stomach knots as he contemplates the repercussions of making such a spectacle out of himself. He could see their easy conversations becoming stilted and awkward, and their companionable smiles being exchanged with a new reticent formality as they pass each other in the hallway.

Lettie’s head bumps against his chin and pulls him from the pits of his own thoughts with a flinch. Dispelling the tendril of unease in his chest, Phillip looks down into pale blue eyes that stare reproachfully back. “I’m sorry, did I stop petting you for a fraction of a second there?” Phillip huffs with amusement, rubbing the ragdoll’s cheek with his thumb. He smiles as Lettie presses back against him with a clamouring ‘ _mrrow’,_ his lingering tension gradually easing.

Pushing himself from the counter and collecting a Bordeaux glass, Phillip pours himself a helping of red wine before making his way through to the living room, Lettie at his heels. “Since my most critical task has been seen to, I’m sure you won’t begrudge me a bit of time to read before dinner.” He sets his glass on the coffee table and picks up the book already waiting there, throwing a pointed look at Lettie. With artful disinterest, Lettie sits and grooms her side while Phillip slips off his shoes and stretches out along the couch. As soon as the playwright settles, she's upon him, kneading his midsection and promptly spreading out across his lap. Phillip chuckles and combs his fingers through her fur as he reads, the contented rumbles of the ragdoll eventually proving too soothing to combat as his book gradually tips forward and his eyes slip shut.

 

~*~*~

 

Phillip stirs from sleep to a dark apartment and groans wearily upon realising he’d dozed off. He tentatively pats himself and then the surrounding cushions down before sitting up, confirming Lettie’s unusual absence. If Phillip didn’t wake with the ragdoll across his chest, or attempting murder by smothering, she was usually tucked against his side, or at the very least nearby. Marking his book and placing it back on the table, Phillip pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a moment to let his eyes adjust to the dimly lit apartment, illuminated solely by the streetlights spilling in through the windows.

“Lettie...Lett?” he tries, clicking his tongue in hopes of hearing those cushioned footfalls against the wooden floor. The silence stretches. Phillip starts to wonder if she’d managed to clamber into his dirty laundry again when he hears her inquisitory chirping from the kitchen. He runs his hand over his face and through his hair with a sigh, but the relief is short lived when the mewl is followed by a distinct _’shiiiidkthud’._

Phillip is on his feet in an instant, heart fluttering in his chest as he edges towards the kitchen. He steps around the partition wall and inhales sharply when he spots a large dark figure hoisting itself through his window.

“Oh my g– “ he quickly flicks on the light, and the intruder tumbles through the window with a cry of surprise, hitting the floor with a grunt “–PT!” Phillip nearly yells, though he can barely hear it over the thunderous beat of his own heart. “Will you stop coming in through the window, it scares the hell out of me every time!” Phillip snaps, resisting the temptation to double over as his stress and heart rate oscillate.

He glares down at the older man crumpled on his floor in his ridiculously red jacket; Barnum, to his credit, at least looks sheepish. As he starts to calm down, Phillip can’t contain the puff of ludicrous laughter that escapes him when his own words register, and Barnum visibly relaxes with a relieved smile. A demanding yowl interrupts the moment as Lettie strides out from behind the counter where she’d dashed after Barnum’s graceless spill.

“Hey, don't encourage him, you traitor,” Phillip protests as the ragdoll steps carelessly over the elder man to sit expectantly on his midsection.

“Well hello, darling,” Barnum croons, reaching into his coat to withdraw the cat treats secreted away in his inner pocket. Lettie's tail swishes and she chitters with anticipation as Phillip looks on disapprovingly.

“You've conditioned my cat.”

Barnum chuckles and holds a treat above Lettie so she sits up after it.

“You're just jealous because she likes me,” Barnum shoots back smugly, fussing the cat and giving her another treat before gently dislodging her. Phillip steps around Lettie and offers Barnum his hand. The man beams up at him and takes it, his grip warm and strong. Phillip tries to ignore the responding tightness in his stomach as he pulls Barnum to his feet.

“So, you’ve managed to lock yourself out _again?_ ” Phillip asks dryly.

Barnum shrugs helplessly. “I’m always convinced I have the right window; maybe next time I’ll get lucky.”

“We live on the second floor; you’re going to get hurt if you keep scaling the building like that every time you lock yourself out,” Phillip warns, “Can’t you keep a spare key somewhere?”

Barnum raises an eyebrow, brushing himself off. “And when would I get to see my darling Lettie if I did that?” Barnum pauses and peers at Phillip more closely. “Did I wake you?” he asks, looking chastened.

Phillip stares for a moment before flushing and stepping back, running his hand through his hair, hoping it didn’t look too frightful. “No, no. I mean it’s only, what, eight?” he guesses, crossing to the fridge and quickly changing the subject. “You really know what a guy wants to hear; my neighbour routinely breaks in to my apartment because he wants to spend time with my cat,” Phillip snorts. “Would you like a drink?”

“Ten,” Barnum corrects, looking startled but pleased by the offer that follows. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

“Ten?” Phillip deflates and resigns himself to toast for dinner, since he certainly wouldn’t manage anything else at this hour – not without kicking Barnum out at least, and he didn’t feel inclined to do so. Without a word he waves for Barnum to take a seat at the island and pours the man a glass of red. By the time he collects his own untouched glass from the living room, Barnum is already seated with his jacket folded over the back of the chair, scratching Lettie behind the ear as she crouches on the countertop.

“Do you mind if I eat?” Phillip asks, placing his glass on the counter opposite Barnum.

“Not at all; you’ve not had dinner yet?” Barnum asks with a hint of disapproval.

Phillip focuses on rolling up his shirt sleeves to cover his embarrassment as he admits; “I may have dozed off on the couch for a while.”

“Are you getting enough sleep?” Barnum queries casually, fingers tapping the stem of his glass.

Phillip tries not to smile, warmed by the evident concern despite Barnum's attempt to veil it. “Not as much as I’d like at the moment. Deadlines,” he says in way of explanation, shutting the lid of the breadbin. 

“You’re going to have more than toast, though, aren’t you?” The tone in Barnum’s voice implies he won’t accept the very obvious ‘no’ as an answer, even as Phillip drops two pieces of bread into the toaster.

“It’s as good as anything else.”

Barnum makes a curious sound and pushes his seat back; Phillip can only watch in bemusement as his neighbour crosses the kitchen and promptly starts rooting through his fridge.

“Frying pan?”

Taking a moment to process the request, Phillip tentatively claims a pan from one of his admittedly lesser-used cupboards. Barnum has already located the knives and Phillip’s single chopping board by the time the pan is placed on the stove, and is slicing his way through a selection of spoils from the fridge. Phillip casts his eye over the accrued ingredients with interest; ham, eggs, milk, onion, and a handful of sad-looking button mushrooms.

“Sit down, I can handle it,” Barnum assures with his wayward smile. Phillip finds he can’t really protest, still trying to affirm that his stunningly handsome neighbour, who had fallen through his window not half an hour ago, was standing in his kitchen making him dinner.

He takes his seat at the island and picks up the conversation as Barnum cooks, the back and forth coming with a familiar, reassuring ease. Lettie joins him shortly after, also seemingly fascinated by the phenomenon taking place, although Phillip suspects she’s more interested in the off-cuts of ham Barnum throws her when he thinks Phillip isn’t looking. He shoots Barnum a warning look after the third piece, trying to taper his smile to give his glower more impact.

“If she gets fat, you’ll be the idiot walking a cat around the block twice a day,” he warns. Barnum pouts, but it disappears as quickly as it comes, and Phillip’s eyebrows shoot up when Barnum indicates to _him_ with the piece of ham instead. “You can’t be serious.”

Barnum’s challenging smirk says otherwise. Amusement winning out, Phillip braces himself with a playfully exasperated sigh, and Barnum tosses the chunk of ham with a clean under-arm sweep. Throwing his head back, the ham lands neatly in Phillip’s open mouth, and he grins smugly as Barnum hoots in triumph. Lettie’s plaintive yowl at the loss of her ham only buoys their laughter, and the apartment in that moment feels more alive than it had in all the time Phillip had called it home.

Their antics die down as Barnum’s concentration returns to his meal preparation, the sizzle of the pan adding a homely ambience to the kitchen. “Could you grab some plates, Phil?” The nickname catches Phillip by surprise, mid-nuzzle with Lettie, and he jerks upright, flustered even though the man hasn’t turned around.

“Yeah, no problem,” Phillip replies weakly, skirting around the counter and crouching down to the crockery cupboard. As he reaches into the cupboard, a colourful glint beneath the window catches his eye, and Phillip freezes. Casting a furtive glance at Barnum and ensuring he's absorbed in his task, Phillip hesitates only a moment before snagging the condemning item from the kitchen floor and tucking it into his pocket. He presents Barnum with the requested plates, and shoos Lettie from the kitchen. He's just finishing setting their cutlery when Barnum places one of the dishes down in front of him.

“Voilà, ham and mushroom scrambled eggs on toast. Not extravagant, but better than the alternative.” Phillip can _hear_ the man’s pointed look.

Feeling daring, Phillip swirls his wine and quips, “And here I was thinking you were a cheap date.” He’s rewarded with a surprised but exultant chuckle as Barnum seats himself opposite.

“With the contents of that fridge, you’re lucky I managed _this_ ,” Barnum teases back. Phillip smiles, ducking his head at the truth of the statement; regardless, it was certainly more than Phillip could have achieved with double the time Barnum had taken, and he's grateful for his consideration.

“In all seriousness, I appreciate this.” Phillip makes a small, awkward gesture with his fork to the humble meal.

“You’ll appreciate it more if you eat it while it’s still warm.” Barnum's eyes gleam with amusement, and Phillip’s mouth snaps shut, suddenly bashful. Barnum chuckles. “It was my pleasure,” he adds. The tension in Phillip’s shoulders lessens, and he flashes Barnum a grateful smile.

He’s hyper-aware of Barnum’s attention as he finally cuts into his dinner and takes a bite; to his empty stomach, it’s _decadent_. His face must say it all when Barnum sits back looking decidedly satisfied, holding up his wine glass expectantly.

“And what are we toasting to?” Phillip queries with good humour.

Barnum’s smile is broad and unreservedly fond. “To very pleasant company,” he replies, holding Phillip’s gaze unwaveringly. The mellifluent timbre of his voice washes over Phillip in a tangible wave of warmth and ardour, while his words and their intimation burrow and clamour for space in his suddenly constricted chest.

“To very pleasant company,” Phillip echoes, tapping their glasses with a sharp _clink_.

 

~*~*~

 

“You _didn’t_ ,” Phillip says, aghast.

“I _did_ ,” Barnum crows.

Phillip leans in with rapt attention; their dishes abandoned to the side and their third glass of wine at their elbows.

“What did her father say?”  
  
Barnum laughs. “I didn’t give anyone much of a chance to say anything, I was too busy high-tailing it back down the aisle dragging Charity behind me. You’d think snobby rich-people weddings would be accustomed to that sort of drama, the daring escape on a moped may have been a surprise, however…” he muses.

“You put her on a _moped?_ ” Phillip cries, incredulous. Barnum shrugs, grinning unrepentantly.

“We made quite the sight I’m sure you can imagine. Though, she did say if I’d turned up on the elephant like I’d initially planned she would have gone through with the wedding.”

Phillip has to sit back to wipe the tears from his eyes as Barnum chuckles into his wine glass. After regaining his composure Phillip finally asks; “So, where is Charity now?”

“She travelled for a while and eventually settled in Verona, but she deigns to come and visit her valiant saviour now and then,” he winks.

Phillip nods. “I’m sure it’s the least you’re due for such a rescue,” he accedes, the corners of his lips twitching with mirth.

They fall into a companionable silence as they finish their wine, Barnum eventually catching sight of the clock on the kitchen wall reading 12:47am _._

“Oh Christ, I didn’t realise that was the time, I should let you get some sleep,” Barnum says as he pushes his chair back. Disappointment settles like a lead weight in Phillip’s stomach when he glances at the clock himself, but he’s given a modicum of comfort when Barnum sounds just as disappointed as he feels by their impromptu evening together coming to an end. “Still got one more window to climb through after all,” Barnum reminds him with a humorous grin.

Phillip starts, raising an eyebrow with a concurring hum. “Let me show you out,” he offers, leading the way to the door as Barnum shrugs on his coat. Holding the door open, Phillip smiles warmly as Barnum steps into the hallway, and tries not to look too besotted when Barnum’s hand skims his own in passing, his dark eyes catching Phillip’s with a meaningful look.

“Goodnight,” Barnum bids, looking reluctant to go, and Phillip makes his decision; he isn’t cruel enough to subject Barnum to a bout of panic on top of his inevitable embarrassment.

Phillip calls him back.

“Yes?” Barnum stops and pivots on his heel expectantly, eyebrows knitting together in confusion when Phillip presses something heavy and metallic into his hand, laden with colourful tags and trinkets. He sees the exact moment realisation hits when Barnum’s face drops. Phillip smirks.

“You dropped your keys.”

It feels like an accomplishment to have the man, who always had an answer for everything, stood in stumped silence in front of him, but Phillip doesn’t miss the panic creeping into Barnum’s eye, and he wants to quickly assuage it.

“You could have just asked me out for coffee,” Phillip points out, hoping his light tone conveys his amusement. The lack of animosity towards the deception clearly takes Barnum by surprise, and it's enough to reassure Phillip; with a preening “Goodnight, PT,” and a pleased grin, Phillip closes the door on the dumbfounded man.  

Heart racing, Phillip pauses with his hand against the door and expels a steadying breath. He feels lightheaded with exhilaration, and slightly apprehensive about how his little stunt will be taken when Barnum’s shock wears off.

A solid warmth presses against his leg, and Phillip looks down fondly as Lettie circles him; she goes without fuss when he scoops her up into the cradle of his arm, purring comfortingly. Casting one last look at the door, as if he could still possibly see Barnum through it, Phillip slowly steps away, stifling a yawn with his free hand as he goes.

Setting Lettie on the bed, Phillip is about to drop face-down next to her, undressing be damned, when he hears a quiet, tentative knock through the apartment. Phillip hesitates with one knee planted on the bed, unsure if it's wishful thinking and a sudden rush of fatigue playing tricks on him, or if he genuinely has someone knocking on his door at one in the morning.

After a pregnant pause, a louder knock confirms it. Phillip hops back off the bed and rushes as fast as he dares to the front door, hand falling onto the handle. Trying to quickly compose himself again, Phillip pulls it open, but can't prevent his immediate smile at finding Barnum on the other side. He's pretty sure the man hadn't moved from his spot at all since Phillip had closed the door on him.

“And what can I do for you at this hour, Mr. Barnum?” Phillip queries, resisting the temptation to lean against the doorframe as he regards his neighbour.

His teasing seems to bolster Barnum's nerve as he straightens and clears his throat. “I heard you may be open to having coffee with me.”

Phillip cocks his head, his smile growing cheeky. “Is that so… And what are you planning to do with this information?” he challenges, delighting in the glimpse of shyness amidst Barnum’s resurging confidence.

“Well, it was from a rather reliable source, but it’s purely speculation until proven.”

Phillip finds himself grinning unreservedly in anticipation.

“Would you like to join me for coffee, to test this theory?”

Phillip laughs and surreptitiously leans in, thrilled by the way Barnum’s eyes dilate and he inches forward in return. “I’ll do you one better; I’m free for lunch, you can collect me at twelve.”

“A date?”

Phillip nods without hesitation, and Barnum’s responding grin is thrilling.

“Deal,” he agrees, holding Phillip’s gaze until a fretful whine from the bedroom has Phillip turning back into the apartment and Barnum peering over his shoulder. “I don’t think someone appreciates you being up past your bedtime.”

Phillip gives Barnum a light shove with feigned offense. “ _Goodnight,_ PT” he huffs, smirking as he closes the door on the man for the second time that night.

Chuckling quietly to himself, elated beyond reason, Phillip only manages one step up the hallway before there’s another quiet rap on his door. Bemused by the antics, Phillip curiously reopens the door, not surprised to find Barnum still there. This time he merely arches his eyebrow expectantly at the man, who grins back at him with his characteristic magnetism.  
  
“Can I kiss you?” Barnum asks, his voice a low rumble.

Despite the way his heart skips at the request, Phillip masks it with a smirk. Rising up onto his toes, he presses his lips to Barnum’s in a chaste kiss, his expression softening when Barnum’s eyelids droop and he regards Phillip with an unfocused contentment.

“The next time you climb through my window...” Phillip murmurs, lowering himself back to the ground. Barnum blinks to refocus himself, listening attentively. “It better be with a good bottle of whisky and expensive cat treats.”  
  
Barnum laughs, his grin edged with bliss. “I’ll see what I can do.”  
  
“ _Goodnight_ ,” Phillip says with fond emphasis.

“Sleep tight,” Barnum returns with a wink.

When Phillip closes the door for the last time that night, it’s on a truly enamoured PT Barnum.


End file.
